


Zombies and Blackouts

by CatHeights



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-31
Updated: 2009-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the Pegasus galaxy was the ultimate horror show, the fright never ended. Written for cliche_bingo. The story takes place some time before Season 5, <i>The Prodigal</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombies and Blackouts

~*~  
** 1**  
~*~

Maybe he should have taken up running. Sheppard and Ronon were always racing through Atlantis with Sheppard ever hopeful that today would be the day he'd beat Ronon. Rodney found John's optimism somewhat endearing even though it was completely delusional.

Besides, when would he have found time for a leisurely jog in his schedule? Running was something you did in short spurts to get from Point A to Point B, or to avoid the extremely creepy thing that was chasing after you. Except, he had something extremely creepy chasing him right now, and he could use some endurance, okay a lot of endurance.

Not that taking up running would have helped. Because really what could prepare you for being chased by someone who had risen from the dead with an inclination for sticking her hand through a person's chest? Nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare one for this situation. Sometimes the Pegasus galaxy was the ultimate horror show, the fright never ended.

His pants stuck to his leg, and Rodney was sure the wetness he felt dripping down his thigh was blood. Yet he felt no pain as he ran. He was flying, running so fast that he swore his feet barely touched the ground. Right now, he bet he could out run Ronon.

The hallway was dim, the pitiful emergency lighting doing nothing to dispel the gloom, but Rodney had no trouble seeing. Superb night vision, excellent hearing, oh the ways one's senses improved when one was in flight mode. He could have rhapsodized on the keenness of his senses, except he heard the thud of her feet growing ever closer, and that left his mind with only one thought—RUN. RUN FASTER.

He followed the curve of the hallway and found himself in a room—a room with only one exit, the one he'd just come through.

"Not good. Crap, so not good." Hand shaking, he raised his pistol just as she reached the doorway.

She didn't look like a monster, not with those blonde ringlet curls and annoyingly cute nose that Sheppard had felt the need to comment upon. Oh how that comment had pissed him off. Why did John feel the need to flirt with everyone, and why did it bother him so much these days? Fighting with Sheppard over his incessant flirting had been a waste of air. If these were going to be his last moments in the universe, he would have preferred his last encounter with Sheppard to have been of a sexual nature.

God how he missed sex with Sheppard. Even if sex was all that had been between them, he still missed the rush of riding the edge of John's control. He'd like to experience that rush one more time before he died. Not that he wanted to die, because he so didn't.

Gun pointed in her direction, Rodney moved backward as she came toward him, her movements smooth, coordinated. Shouldn't she be lurching?Technically she was a zombie, and in the movies they always sort of lurched. What was wrong with him? As if the movies ever got anything right. Look at how they always messed up time travel.

But what if she wasn't a zombie? What if she was just...ill? After all it wasn't as if she'd become a zombie through voodoo, so that meant medical research was most likely involved. A name immediately came to mind—Michael. Had they stumbled across another of Michael's experiments? Was blondie really dead or was her condition something reversible?

He cleared his throat. "Listen." Rodney paused and tried to remember her name. "You...oh, yes, Dahlea. Dahlea, you need to listen to me. You're, uh, sick. But I can help you if you let me contact my team. So just be a good girl and go sit against the wall and not attack me, and I'll help you. Okay?"

Dahlea released a guttural moan and raised her hand. Okay, definitely a zombie. Rodney met her eyes, and all he saw reflected there was death—his death. He didn't want to die.

The first round he fired did nothing to deter her, although he swore he hit her shoulder. Rodney aimed higher, directly between the eyes, and fired, again and again. She fell to the floor, and he stumbled backward, turning away from the glimpse he'd gotten of her ruined face.

The room filled with light, and Rodney reached out toward the wall, temporarily blinded. Someone must have finished the work they'd been doing and brought the auxiliary systems back on-line.

"About damn time," Rodney muttered. Snails could have gotten things on-line faster. He'd done all the difficult work. It had been basically down to flicking a switch. Of course that was assuming the control center wasn't currently swarming with zombies intent on destroying his work and perhaps making their way to him, droves and droves of zombies. After all if this was another of Michael's experiments, he never did anything in small numbers.

"Okay, enough of that. I need to find a terminal and contact Sheppard. Yes, a communications terminal would be a good thing."

A loud siren filled the room, and Rodney felt the sharp spike of icy fear curling around his spine. He knew that sound. He'd heard it several times back on Atlantis. It was the sound of a city recognizing a pathogen and going into lockdown.

The door clicked shut before he couldn't even think to run toward it, and then the lights went out, leaving him alone in the dark.

~*~  
** 2**  
~*~

"We'd been studying the city for awhile. It was of great interest to many of our scientists and historians. But when the Wraith came, it was also our only option for evacuation. So now, this is home." Mateo, the Gadelion Chief Councilor, pressed his palms together as if in contemplation.

"It is a very beautiful city, and will be more so once repairs are complete," Teyla said.

Even though Rodney was overseeing repairs in the city's command area, John swore he could hear McKay's dismissive snort, followed by, "Beautiful, hah!" Rodney had called Daltina a poor man's copy of Atlantis, claiming it was like someone had seen a photo of Atlantis and tried to design a replica with no understanding of her architecture or engineering.

While he agreed with McKay that the city was far from beautiful, John knew this city was no replica. He'd bet Daltina had once been an important city to the Ancients. If you looked carefully you could see bits of the Ancients' original design trapped beneath utilitarian walls. What he saw was a place that had been attacked repeatedly and whose inhabitants had patched her together again and again with whatever materials they had on hand, until they could no longer do so. It was a tomb, a fading memorial of a desperate struggle. He'd seen cities like this one far too often.

Mateo smiled at Teyla. "It is beautiful, isn't it? While I wish none of this had come to pass, I am grateful that we have this place to make into our new home. And on behalf of my people, I express our gratitude for your promise of continued help for the repairing of our systems. It's been difficult effecting repairs when we lost so many of our engineers, first to the plague and then to the Wraith."

"We're happy to help out," John said. Mateo seemed sincere enough, but he couldn't shake the feeling there was something the councilor wasn't sharing with them. It made him uneasy, a feeling that grew as he realized it'd been awhile since McKay had checked in. He might have just lost track of time, but still. "I'm going to head down to the command center, and check...."

John stopped what he was saying as the room went into darkness. "What the hell?"

"There must be a problem with the repairs." Mateo's voice wavered.

John flicked on his P90's light and carefully scanned the room, as Teyla did the same. "Rodney, come in." He got no answer. "McKay." That uneasiness was now a certified bad feeling.

"I would not be concerned. Periodic communication blackouts are common here. If we wait, I'm sure power will be restored shortly."

John heard the false calm in Mateo's tone. The man was terrified of something. "No offense, but I'd rather check things out myself. Ronon, Teyla."

"No! We should stay put."

"Why?" Ronon's voice held a note of challenge.

"Because." Mateo swallowed. "Because it's dark, and it's easy to get lost here."

"We're not afraid of the dark." Ronon took a step toward Mateo, walking acros the light from John's P90.

Teyla intercepted Ronon's course, placing a gentle hand on the councilor's shoulder. "Mateo, if there is a reason we should be concerned, I ask you to share it with us now. We came here as friends to your people. We ask that you respond in kind."

"My only concern is for your welfare. With so few of us, we haven't been able to fully survey the city and mark off areas that are unsafe. Roaming around in the dark could be dangerous."

"We're wasting time," Ronon said.

"Agreed." John knew they weren't getting anything useful out of Mateo. They needed to find McKay.

"Wait, I'll come with you. I'm more familiar with the way to the command center than any of you."

John pointed his light low in Ronon's direction, and the two men exchanged a look. Ronon nodded and fell back letting Mateo precede him. He knew Ronon's sharp ears would alert him if Mateo tried anything. Right now, John wasn't feeling very trusting.

He led the way out into the hall, the light from his P90 piercing darkness. Once again, he tried to raise Rodney. "McKay, come in."

~*~  
** 3**  
~*~

"Zombies and blackouts. Oh my. Zombies and blackouts. Oh my." Rodney whispered the words, humming a bit between each repetition and tapping a finger against the wall.

The room had grown hot, stifling actually, and sweat dripped down his face. He guessed the ventilation system was off-line again. Chances were a lot of systems were off-line. Zombies wouldn't care about the hours of back-breaking work he'd put in fixing those systems.

His mouth grew dry and his throat began to ache, so he stopped whispering and just kept up his dissonant humming. He should have had a complete melt down, but he hadn't. If the city locked down this room, the pathogen must be in here with him. He could die and resurrect in hours. Maybe that was why he was so calm—it had already started. He did feel odd, dizzy and as if he was thinking through a fog.

Rodney moved his leg and winced. Ouch, that hurt. He ran a hand along his thigh and felt dampness and a tear in his pants. Right, that's right. He'd caught his leg on something sharp. He remembered the shooting pain of it, but it didn't hurt so much now. God he was thirsty. When was the last time he'd had a drink? Everything was a blur. One minute he was handling repairs, and the next he was here in the dark with a dead zombie. Oh, that was redundant, wasn't it? Could zombies ever be dead? Really, all of it had happened so fast.

_Rodney stretches. Oh how his back aches. A few more minutes and the auxiliary system fixes would be complete, and then it would definitely be time for a break. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement and turns in the direction. The blonde Sheppard had flirted with is standing in the doorway, but that can't be because he swears Mateo had told them she died suddenly last night. Is he confusing her with someone else, because she definitely looks to be among the living?_

_He's about to ask Itan a question about her, when he sees the blonde approach one of the technicians working near the door. She sticks her hand right through his chest._

_"What the..." Rodney's words dissolve into a garbled sound as he watches her approach another technician and dispose of him in the same manner, tossing his body with such force onto the main control panel that it sparks. The lights go out._

_"Oh Salea, what have you done?" Itan says. "Dr. McKay, run!"_

_Rodney needs no further encouragement. The blonde's path of death has taken her away from the door, and he and Itan bolt for the opening, the hallway's emergency lighting highlighting the way. At least something's working in this crappy city._

_ At first he thinks they're both going to make it, but as they turn the corner, he hears Itan trip. She's on him in instant. A scream, and then it's too late. There's nothing Rodney can do but run._

"And I ran and ran right into a locked room." He laughed, a pained rasp. "Does it count as escape if you got out of one deadly situation only to end up in another? No, I don't think so. Zombies, they wait until dark to eat you alive. But that's not really true because they can eat you in daylight too. It's vampires that can only eat you in the dark."

_Rodney, hold it together._

"John?" Rodney tried to sit up straighter, hands scrambling against the wall. "John!"

He listened. For a second, he thought he heard a sound, like something sliding, but then there was nothing.

Rodney tapped his forehead. "Oh you're only in my head, but that's okay."

_Just take a deep breath, Teyla, Ronon and I are on our way to you. Just hang in there, buddy, okay?_

"Okay. But can you hurry? I'm really thirsty and hungry too. I forgot to grab a snack before running from the zombie."

~*~  
** 4**  
~*~

Muscles straining, John pushed as they tried to open yet another door. He'd about reached the edge of his patience. The lights had returned briefly, but shortly afterward the city had gone into lockdown, with Mateo claiming he had no idea why. He could tell Ronon was seconds away from beating some answers out of the nervous man, and John was very close to letting him. He kept telling himself that so far they had no evidence that Rodney wasn't okay, but two hours had passed since he'd first been unable to raise McKay, and they still weren't at the command center. Each moment of Rodney's silence was eating away at him.

As they approached the command center, John found evidence that Rodney might be far from okay. Itan's body was lying just outside the door. John fought for control as he knelt beside the remains of the man who had been working closely with Rodney for the last two days. "Something ripped through his chest."

"Enough." Ronon shoved Mateo against a wall. "Talk, now."

John stood. "I think that would be a damn good idea, Councilor."

The hallway's emergency lighting gave a reddish hue to the sweat beading along the sides of Mateo's thin face. He swallowed. "Salea."

Ronon pressed his arm against Mateo's chest. "What's a Salea?"

"She's Dahlea's mother."

"Dahlea. That is the name of the girl whom you said died last night." Teyla stood off to the side, her gaze switching between Mateo and the open hallway.

"Yes."

"Are you saying Dahlea's mother did this?" Teyla sounded incredulous.

"No, Dahlea's responsible. But it had to have been her mother who let her out. No one else would have made such a grave error of judgment."

John could feel the pulse points of a headache starting at his temples. "So Dahlea's not dead."

"No, she died, but now she's come back, wrong."

Ronon released Mateo. "Wrong, how?"

"Not all of our people were killed by the plague or the Wraith." Mateo rubbed his arms. "Among those who survived, stories started surfacing of dead who walked again. At first, I dismissed the accounts as nonsense. They weren't. Some who didn't die from the plague seemed to be infected with something that caused people in the best of health to drop dead and return as monsters."

Michael's leering face appeared in John's mind. That visage haunted him constantly. The monster they'd created. This bit of horror had his stench all over it.

"Why did you not tell us this when we arrived?" Teyla asked. "We had already sent for the doctor we told you about who has worked to help cure the ailments of others who have survived this plague."

"We wanted to judge the doctor for ourselves." Mateo held out his hands in front of him. "You don't understand. My people live in fear of someone choosing to wipe us out. What is happening to us is unnatural."

Teyla reached out and took one of Mateo's hands. "We do understand. I just wish you had trusted us with this information sooner."

"Why not burn the bodies?"

"Ronon!" Teyla scolded.

"No, it's a fair question." Mateo pulled away from Teyla and took a deep breath. "We tried that at first. But the screams...."

John felt the bile rise in his throat as he pictured the scene. The "dead" waking as they were being burned.

Mateo continued, his voice just above a whisper. "The screams were horrible. It made us wonder what if they weren't dead. What if there was something that could be done? So we got the containment area working and placed those who died into the pods."

"Our offer to help stands. But first we have to find Rodney." John headed into the control center.

"I will do everything I can to help you locate Dr. McKay."

Inside the room, they found two more dead engineers, both with holes in their chests, as well as the destroyed consul that must have triggered the power failure.

"Sheppard, someone's coming."

John went on immediate alert. He heard nothing, but he knew Ronon's hearing was far better than his own.

Mateo crossed over to the door, blocking John's line of fire.

"Councilor, step back." John moved, trying to get a clear view of the door.

"It's okay. It's just Jarvis and Lissa."

John didn't relax until two figures appeared in the doorway, backlit by the emergency lighting, and the one said, "Councilor Mateo, it's good to see you."

As he came closer to the door, he recognized the pair from the reception on their arrival. They were siblings who served in the Gadelion guard service. The girl, Lissa, had been full of questions about his encounters with the Wraith, asking about tactics they'd successfully employed.

"We have an issue," Jarvis said.

"You make speak freely." Mateo waved a hand to indicate John, Ronon and Teyla. "They know."

Lissa's eyes widened, and she exchanged a look with Jarvis. "The containment area was breached. Upon entry, we found Salea dead, and Dahlea's pod empty. There was a damaged pod as well that was also missing its occupant. It was Stefan's pod."

"No sign of him?" Mateo asked.

"No, Councilor." Jarvis stood straight, arms rigid at his side. "We haven't run into anyone or anything but you. Our communicators aren't working. Interference is too great when the power isn't running."

John raised an eyebrow, so Mateo hadn't been lying about communication difficulties being a common issue.

"We tried to get the power back on from the consul near the containment area, but were only able to do so long enough to initiate a partial quarantine."

"Wait, you were responsible for the city going into lockdown?" John realized his tone must have sounded angry as he watched Jarvis stand even straighter.

"Yes, Colonel Sheppard. Emergency power wasn't working in the containment area, so that was the only way to prevent any others who might arise from escaping."

"Okay, thanks for explaining." John tried to even out his tone. It wasn't really this kid's fault that McKay was probably locked in somewhere, having a major freak out. And hopefully that was the worst of it—McKay having a really bad day.

"How many others?" Ronon asked.

Lissa wiped at the sweat dripping down her face, tucking a piece of her dark hair behind her ears as she did so. "42"

Watching Lissa, John realized his own sweat stained shirt wasn't fully due to their forcing doors open. It was incredibly hot in here. The ventilation system would have gone down with the power. So not only was Rodney stuck somewhere. He was probably stuck somewhere very hot. "We need to find McKay."

Mateo touched his arm. "Colonel, be careful. The dead are very strong. They will go down if you shoot them, but they'll eventually rise again."

"Great." _Zombies_, John thought, _that's just fabulous._

"Jarvis give me your communicator." Mateo took the requested device and handed it to John. "Colonel, take this. We'll work on restoring power and will contact you once communications are working."

He took the offered triangular device. "Thanks. Dr. Beckett should be contacting you soon. I'm trusting that when he contacts you, you'll fill him in on everything that has happened."

"You have my word." Mateo met John's gaze, and John was satisfied with what he saw in the other man's eyes.

"Good."

"Dr. Beckett will be able to help." Teyla nodded to Mateo as she headed to the door.

"Thank you. I'm sorry we dragged you into this mess."

John just nodded and followed Teyla and Ronon out and down the hall.

"Sheppard, look at this." Ronon was looking down at a sharp piece of metal jutting out from the wall. "Blood. He went this way."

"Let's find him."

Lately, John felt like he was always trying to find Rodney, always losing him, be it to rogue Asguard or the Wraith, and he hated the feeling. He expected to lose part of Rodney to Jennifer, his own indecision and inaction had led to that inevitability. Hell, fate may have decreed it. He could accept that truth, even if he didn't like it, as long as he had some part of Rodney. John couldn't accept, wouldn't accept, totally losing Rodney. No way was he going to let that happen.

~*~  
** 5**  
~*~

John Sheppard.

Jennifer Keller.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

Who would he choose if he had to choose between John and Jennifer? Not that there was really any choice in the matter, but pondering a hypothetical situation was preferable to thinking about how unbearably cold he was and how it hurt to shiver. And wasn't he sweating just a little while ago, huh? Rodney ran a hand over his face, which felt sweaty, but he was definitely cold. How odd.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe—John.

God, John. For a little while, it had been amazing. Really it had been incredible, which is why he should have known it would go so very wrong. But actually if he thought about it, it hadn't gone so very wrong, it just stopped, as if he'd dreamed it all. Rodney laughed. Maybe sex with John had been just a hallucination—who said hallucinations couldn't last a month. It would be nice to have one now. Rodney closed his eyes.

_John's skin is warm. Rodney touches greedily, because he can. When he presses into John, he goes slowly, wanting to experience every inch of movement. _

_"Rodney." John begs. His face is so open, his gaze locked on Rodney's._

_He knows in this moment, he's all John's seeing, and that makes him fight his natural urge of do it right now before it all flees, because some things should last. _

_Rodney pulls out and presses in again—slow—leaning down to kiss John as he does. The angle's awkward, but John doesn't seem to mind. When he leans back from the kiss, he sees that John is stroking himself, and that's so incredibly hot that he can't help moving faster. Instinct urges get as close to John as he can. _

_"Yes, you, yes," Rodney babbles, words coming out with no connection to his mind. All he knows is there is just him and John, and that's everything. He grabs onto John's arm, holding on tight._

A sound, like something was being dragged across a floor, made Rodney's eyes fly open. He stared into the darkness for a few minutes, confused as to where he was, but then the memory came back and his heart began to pound. What had that sound been? She was dead, right? But zombies didn't die.

"All right, this is ridiculous, she's not a zombie. She's a victim of some really frightening Michael experiment, which of course means that just like a zombie she might not die. Oh God." He swallowed, throat so incredibly dry, and listened. But there was only silence.

He released his breath. Nothing more than his mind playing tricks in the dark. His hand came to rest on his leg, and he frowned when his pants felt sticky. Gross. If they could hurry up and rescue him that would be really good. Surely he would have managed a rescue faster, unless his team had run into zombies as well.

_Rodney, don't go there. We're fine and we're on our way to find you._

"Right, right, of course you are. It's just it's been a while, and well, I've felt better. But yes, I know you're coming."

Rodney closed his eyes, his mind going back to thoughts of John.

_He's never really understood the concept of relaxing and doing nothing. How could wasting his very valuable time ever be relaxing? Except now lying here with John's head resting on his stomach, his fingers carding through messy hair, Rodney thinks he might get the concept. Muscles relaxed, mind at ease—moments like these with John are bliss._

_"You know, I could get used to this, you and I."_

_John moves off Rodney's stomach, turning onto his side. _

_Huh, Rodney thinks, must have been an uncomfortable position. He strokes a hand down John's back. The movement and warm skin beneath his fingers lulls him into sleep._

Thinking back on things, Rodney knew that was the moment the end began. John had tensed when he talked about getting used to things, and he'd overlooked that initial sign, too damn caught up in actually being happy. Then his need to quantify everything had compounded things. Wanting to not screw things up by pushing too hard, he'd ask Sheppard what it was they were doing?

_For a second, Rodney swears John looks afraid, but that makes no sense. He only asked a simple question with a bit of a hand wave. _

_"I mean, it's not that..."_

_"I have to go," John interrupts and then turns and leaves._

After the abrupt end to that conversation, John had acted liked nothing sexual had ever occurred between them. He was John's good buddy, Rodney, and that was it. It had been surreal, and at first, he'd been pissed, but then surprisingly, he'd let it go. There was no undignified screaming match where he told John what a fucking moron he was, because his anger paled in comparison to the hurt. He'd felt raw, so like a wounded animal, he'd retreated and tried to keep his wound hidden from those who might make it worse.

So he went back to just being John's friend, accepting whatever piece of himself Sheppard was willing to share. Pathetic, if he thought about it, which was why he really didn't like to think about it.

Rodney blinked suddenly seeing stars. The lights were back. His eyes barely had time to adjust before he was pitched backed into darkness, but it had been just enough time for him to swear he'd gotten a glimpse of something bending over as if trying to find its feet.

"Oh no!"

~*~  
** 6**  
~*~

"Rodney, come in." Every fifteen minutes, John tried Rodney, his stomach twisting as there was no answer.

The lights came back on. "Well at least that's something," John muttered. He'd barely finished speaking when they flickered off again. "Damn it."

"Spoke too soon," Ronon said.

"Apparently. I'm really not liking this place. Come on."

"Wait. Do you hear that?" Teyla's soft tone was tense.

"Yeah." Ronon moved to John's right.

It was definitely the sound of footsteps drawing closer. "Who's there? This is Colonel John Sheppard." The person kept walking but there was no response. "Damn," John muttered. "Last chance. Identify yourself." When that received no response either, he said, "Ronon, make sure it's on stun."

A few silent seconds passed, and then Ronon fired. The target crumpled immediately.

"What the hell? Why didn't he answer?" John moved forward, quick but cautious. He knelt, reaching out to check the man's pulse. Instinct made him move backward as a hand slammed toward his chest. There was no time to reach for his gun as the zombie was on him instantly. "Christ." His arms shook as he struggled to keep that hand from meeting his chest.

Ronon's arm hooked around the zombie's neck, but it didn't budge. It took Teyla adding her strength to his to pull it off of John.

As Ronon fired on the zombie, John staggered to his feet. The damn thing stumbled but didn't collapse. He and Teyla opened fire as well.

Finally, the thing collapsed, and they watched in silence, fingers on triggers. Several minutes passed before John said, "That had to kill it."

"Should have." Ronon's gaze never moved from the body.

"Stefan. Councilor Mateo said his name was Stefan." Teyla lowered her P90.

"Yeah." John swallowed responding to the sadness in Teyla's voice.

Once again the lights came back. John blinked, the switch from dim emergency lighting to full brightness taking a second to get used to. His gaze returned to Stefan. The young man's body was riddled with bullet holes, black blood spotting the floor around him. Although it was far less blood than John would have expected, it was still a somber sight. He didn't know how anyone could come back after taking so many bullets, and if it was possible, he sure as hell didn't want to see it.

A series of piercing chirps made them grab for their weapons. John realized the noise was coming from the triangular communications device Mateo had given him. He pressed it. "Sheppard."

"Colonel Sheppard. Councilor Mateo. We've re-established communication and isolated the lighting routines from the lockdown procedure. Is your team all right? Have you located Dr. McKay?"

"We're fine. No sign of McKay yet." John closed his eyes for a second.

"Your Dr. Beckett has arrived."

"Good. Um, listen, Councilor, we ran into Stefan, and, well, we had no choice but to defend ourselves."

"I understand." Mateo paused and then said, "We should have sensors back in the next minute or so, and I'll pinpoint your location and send a team to collect Stefan. Hopefully he does not resurrect between now and then."

John glanced toward to the body on the floor. "I think he's down for the count."

"So we've often thought. We've learned to be careful where the dead are concerned, as should you Colonel. Would you like to talk to Dr. Beckett?"

"Yes, I would."

A burst of static made John wonder if the communications were going to go the way of the lights—of and on—but then Beckett's familiar brogue came through.

"Colonel."

"Beckett. They briefed you?"

"Aye. Zombie-like affliction. I'm afraid it sounds a wee bit familiar. Any sign of Rodney?"

"We'll find him. Stay put for now."

"Uh, hold on, Colonel, the Councilor says they have sensors now. He wants to talk to you"

Beckett had barely finished speaking before Mateo started. "Colonel Sheppard there are two life signs a short distance from you. All our people, living people, are accounted for."

"Where?" John felt adrenalin flood his system.

"Move straight, turn left and you should hit a door."

"On our way."

_Rodney, we're coming. Give me a few more minutes, and then you can yell at us for how damn long it took us to find you._

~*~  
** 7**  
~*~

There was something in here with him. He could hear the sound of it slithering across the floor. Heart pounding, Rodney blindly felt around for his gun. It should have been right next to him, but it wasn't. The lights came back on, and the good news was he could see his gun. The bad news was he must have kicked it as it was part way across the room. The really bad news was he could also see what had been making that slithering sound.

Dahlea no longer possessed a cute nose. In fact, she didn't have a cute anything. What moved toward him was one of the most grotesque things he'd ever seen. She didn't lurch, and yet her movement was wrong, as if her body had tried to heal itself without having any idea of a human anatomy. She was a zombie unlike anything in the movies, a human patchwork, evolution on super speed and gone oh so wrong.

"Quarantined with a zombie," Rodney laughed hysterically.

As he wondered if making a dodge for the gun was pointless, he heard banging against the door. "Sheppard!" Please, oh please. "John!" He stumbled, handing pressing against the wall as the door opened.

"Get down," John yelled.

Rodney didn't hesitate, dropping to the floor and covering his head with his arms. He heard the sound of gunfire, which seemed to go on for an endless amount of time. When it was finally over, he found he didn't have the energy to get up from his crouch, even though holding that position burnt so much he felt like his thigh was splitting open.

A hand rested on his neck, but the weight of it didn't startle him. He'd know that touch anywhere—John.

"Rodney, you okay?"

"No, I really don't think I am. I think...." He doesn't remember what he was thinking. "Can you help me up?"

Even though John was obviously trying to be careful, it still hurt. "Ow, ow, ow."

"Shit." The word is muttered softly, but John's voice trembled as he said it.

Rodney glanced over at Sheppard in surprise. He'd been expecting the typical dry response to his complaining, but instead he saw Sheppard's eyes, wide and worried. He followed the path of John's gaze which was directed at his leg. Oh. "I bled a lot."

"I can see that. Easy, buddy, let's just sit you back against the wall. Teyla, I need your help."

He let John guide him, and closed his eyes in relief when he felt the wall against his back. "I knew you'd come. Took your time about it, though."

"The way here was a bit more scenic than expected."

Rodney snorted. "By scenic, you mean you ran into your own horror show in this decrepit, creepy city."

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

He sighed, and as he drifted off, Rodney swore he heard Sheppard asking for Carson. Had Carson come with them? Surely he would have remembered that. Oh well.

A sharp pain jarred his eyes open. "Ouch. You might want to try to be a little careful with an injured man." Rodney blinked in surprise. "Carson?"

"Aye. Just relax, and we'll have you back in Atlantis in no time."

John was gone. His being there must have been his imagination. Of course if that was the case, where was the zombie, and how had Carson gotten here? It was all way too confusing, far too much effort for a dying man.

"You know." He swallowed, throat feeling like sandpaper. "I thought I loved her, and not that it really matters because I wasn't going to get her, but I think I still love the wrong person. And if I'm thinking about him when I'm lying here dying, what does that mean?"

"Hush now, you're not dying. Don't get yourself all worked up over nothing. You'll have plenty of time to figure it all out, Rodney. Just try and rest now."

"Ok."

Carson patted his arm and stepped back, and when he did, Rodney saw John. He frowned at the upset expression on John's face. Sheppard swallowed hard, and Rodney had the inexplicable urge to reach out and comfort him in some way. But his arms felt too heavy to lift them, and the darkness at the edge of his vision was calling to him. So he let go, and John faded from view like he always did.

~*~  
** 8**  
~*~

John came to an abrupt halt as he entered the infirmary. Jennifer was seated on the edge of Rodney's bed smoothing his hair back as he slept. His stomach knotted at the sight, but he didn't turn on his heels fast enough to leave, as Jennifer saw him, smiled and stood up. He forced himself to walk over to her.

"How's he doing?"

"He's going to be fine. There were no contagions in his system. Blood loss, combined with heat exhaustion and hunger caused his condition. He'll be back to his old self in no time."

"That's good." John found he couldn't meet her gaze, so he looked at a spot off her shoulder. "Any word from Carson? Does he think he'll be able to help the Gadelions?"

"Yeah, I heard from him about an hour ago. He's made a lot of progress. He's pretty sure he knows what Michael did in the administration of the Hoffan drug to cause this..." She paused and swallowed hard. "Effect. It wasn't sustaining. From what Carson has been able to determine, the effects only last about 72 hours, and then the body begins to deteriorate. It's horrible."

"Yeah, it is." John was quiet for a moment, and then he gestured toward Rodney. "Take care of him. I need... the team needs him back." _Crap_. "You get used to the complaining. It's too quiet without it." _Real smooth, John, that last bit there made everything sound so much better._

Jennifer just smiled. "I will."

"Thanks Doc."

John bolted toward the door, but stopped to look back once more at Rodney. Jennifer had resumed her spot by Rodney's bedside, and watching her, every bone in his body seemed to be screaming at the wrongness. He should be the one sitting there, touching Rodney, being reassured that they'd once again got lucky with a rescue. It should be him, and it would be him if he hadn't been such a stupid bastard.

Rodney deserved better. He deserved someone like Jennifer, who wouldn't be so paralyzed by the fear of caring for someone that he ran the other way, blocked out the possibility, never understanding that it had already been too late for that. Rodney was far too big a presence in his life to ever be blocked out in any way, no matter what happened.

Maybe in some universe, where he's gone, Rodney ended up with Jennifer, but that's not this universe. He'll fix this. Jennifer's just going to have to find someone else, because in this universe, it's he and McKay. And if he has anything to do about it, it will always be Sheppard and McKay.

~*~  
**9**  
~*~

It was rather peaceful, standing here looking down at the water. The balcony was in shadow, which was fine by him. Better to stare out at the bright sun glittering across the ocean than to be burned to a crisp by it. Rodney smiled—this was good, really good.

The sound of a door opening chased away his smile. Who had the nerve to interrupt his solitude? He turned to look, and it was Sheppard of course. He nodded a greeting and resisted the urge to sigh. For the last two weeks, Sheppard had been downright weird, and Rodney found himself fighting the urge to shake the Colonel until he spat out whatever it was he had on his mind. If he had to sit through one more random, drifting conversation with Sheppard, he was going to scream. Besides, it annoyed him that Sheppard wouldn't just say what he was thinking. And yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to yell at John to stop being a moron and spit out whatever was bothering him. It was frustrating and a bit ridiculous.

John stepped next to him leaning so their arms were pressed against each other. Rodney instinctually moved into the contact, finding his annoyance dissipating as he did so. Perhaps, he could be patient with Sheppard today, even if he'd already exerted more patience than anyone should ever be required to exert.

For several minutes, they were both silent, just watching the waves. Rodney thought it was nice to just be here with John, kind of fitting too, as John was the one who'd shown him that sometimes it was okay to just be. Of course it was at that moment Sheppard decide to speak, and peace went right out the window to be replaced with severe brain ache.

"I was afraid." Sheppard said, his face turned toward the breeze.

Rodney frowned. Here they went again, another round on the cryptic conversation merry-go-round. And it was so not merry. John had to be referring to the mission with the Gadelions. Was that what had been bothering him all this time? "Yes, well, you're supposed to be afraid of zombies. I'm just surprised you have enough sense to be afraid of them. And at least you weren't quarantined with a zombie. I may have to edit that out of my memoirs, because I really don't think I want to relive the experience, even just in writing."

"No," John said and looked at Rodney. "I was afraid of...of what this is between us. It still is isn't it?"

"That depends on what it is?" Rodney's mouth dipped in an angry downturn. "I'm not sure I understand your poor attempt at language. Could you be more specific about what it is you were afraid of?"

John swallowed. "I'm not good at this Rodney. Believing." He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Loving."

"And you think I am, good at this."

"You're better at it than I am."

"Oh, that's high praise indeed."

It was ludicrous to think that John Sheppard, the man who faced down Wraith Queens and taunted danger on a somewhat regular basis, had walked away from him because he was afraid. It was moronic, which meant it was so very Sheppard. God.

"And now you're no longer afraid?"

"No. Yes." John gripped the balcony. "I don't know."

Rodney turned away, but John reached for him, stepping in close so that Rodney could feel him pressed against his back. "Rodney," John said, and Rodney closed his eyes, his whole body tensing from the feel of John's breath against his neck. He'd missed this closeness so much that he almost didn't dare allow himself to want it again.

He allowed John to turn him around, and he didn't move when John put a hand on each side of his face and kissed him.

"I'm sorry," John whispered against his lips.

Rodney kissed John back, knowing he was forgiving John far too easily. He should make John spell out every stupid thought he'd had since deciding to pretend they hadn't slept with each other, but that would be an awkward and pointless exercise. Besides, John rarely said the important things with words.

He rested a hand on John's hip and smiled. "So, is this going to lead to sex?"

John laughed, and the wide smile that followed made forgiving him seem like the only solution. "Sure."

"Because I didn't get to have fantastic sex before the threat of dying horribly, so surely I should get the post traumatic zombie incident fantastic sex."

"Works for me."

"Not that I think we should always wait for traumatic incidents to have fantastic sex."

"Of course not." John kissed the hollow of Rodney's neck, before adding, "Some things should be a daily occurrence."

"For once, I like the way you think."

John held out his hand and Rodney took it. "And you know, I think I owe you makeup sex as well."

"Think? You owe me makeup sex until the period of time that I deem you've sufficiently made up for your moronic behavior."

"Sounds fair," John said as they left the balcony.

It sounded perfect, Rodney thought, smiling.


End file.
